


Of Magic Dragons and Flaming Bentleys

by BooknerdMiss



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And then they Ritz, Birthday Present, Crowley saves Aziraphale, F/M, Heaven that's just rude, M/M, Not smart, Poor Adam, Return of the flaming Bentley, Taking calls during sex, dragon - Freeform, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 22:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2126772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooknerdMiss/pseuds/BooknerdMiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale is in trouble. Crowley comes to the rescue. And afterwards, so does Adam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Magic Dragons and Flaming Bentleys

**Author's Note:**

> This was a gift that I wrote for my friend a couple of years ago. I told him to give me a prompt and he said he wanted to see a dragon, the flaming Bentley and Adam/Pepper. I had no idea how to give him any of that, but this is what came of it.
> 
> I apologize for the formatting. It was really hard to figure it out and I'm not the most computer savvy person. I hope it doesn't detract too much from the story.

**Of Magic Dragons and Flaming Bentleys**

                Long pale lashes touched a smooth cheek as Aziraphale blinked, a worried frown creasing his brow. “Oh,” he muttered. “Dear. Well. This can’t be good.”

\--

\--

                Crowley tucked his hands into the pockets of his perfectly pressed pants, his eyes darting back and forth behind the privacy of his sunglasses. The bookshop looked as it always did; towering shelves crammed full of delicate manuscripts, fastidiously cared for over the centuries. A thick layer of dust covered the floor, undisturbed by footprints of any kind, and the motes that floated in the air danced with the sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the blinds. Everything looked as it usually did. Except, Crowley noticed, something was missing.

                A bookish angel shop keep.

                The former serpent had arrived at the little Soho shop to pick Aziraphale up for their weekly lunch at the Ritz. After the almost Apocalypse five years ago, the two counterparts had decided that they needed to keep “closer tabs” on each other; just to make sure the balance for each side stayed relatively even and that no more Apocalypses were forth coming anytime soon*.  So the weekly lunch and duck feeding had been established.

                Crowley glanced at his watch, a frown marring his handsome features when he saw that it was, indeed, Thursday and that the time was 12:06. He was early**, so where was the angel?

                “Aziraphale?” he called out, taking a few steps forward. The dust on the ground parted for him, not a speck brave enough to land on the shiny black shoes and mar the surface. “Aziraphale, where are you?!” Silence met his call and he huffed irritably, striding purposefully towards the backroom.

                Stillness blanketed the room along with another layer of dust. Crowley glanced around and saw a half empty cup of tea on the table, a lone piece of paper sitting underneath the saucer. Slinking into the room, Crowley made his way over to the table and dislodged the piece of paper from underneath the piece of china. Aziraphale’s tidy script stared up at him from the note.

                _Crowley,_

_I’m sorry to have popped away and most likely missed our weekly lunch, but something . . . er . . . unexpected came up and I had to deal with it right away. No need to worry about anything, my dear; a missive from Above came and they needed me for an errand. Something about a test, perhaps? It was all very vague. Perhaps if I make it back early enough, we could make dinner at the Ritz?_

_-Aziraphale_

                Crowley read the note one more time, blessed, and hurried out of the shop.

 

* * *

*That’s what they kept telling themselves. Perhaps it is a fact not very well known, but supernatural beings are quite adept in the practice of denial.

**12:06 was quite early for Crowley; he usually strolled in at around 12:45. On a good day.

* * *

 

\--

\--

                “Er . . . I’m not quite sure that I understand,” Aziraphale said hesitantly, glancing at the sword that was being offered to him.

                “The message explained everything,” the angel in front of him said dully, but the bookshop owner thought he could detect a slight hint of irritation shadowing his countenance.

                “Yes, well, you see,” the earth bound angel began as he took the sword. It flared to life in his hand and the angel that had handed it to him interrupted his words.

                “Your test begins now,” it said, before disappearing in a flash of blue. Aziraphale frowned as he looked at the flaming sword that he held, his thoughts preoccupied with the weapon and unaware of the creature materializing behind him until an ear splitting roar rent the air.

                Nearly tripping over his well worn trainers as he spun quickly, Azirphale’s sky blue eyes widened in terror as they landed on the manifestation that was crouched in the clearing behind him. It vaguely resembled the shape of a dragon; deadly talon tipped feet, extremely large body covered in purple and black scales, membranous wings that were folded over its back and a snout that was oozing out smoke regularly; but the image was flickering in and out, like a television set that couldn’t quite receive a channel the viewer wanted. Its bottomless blue eyes stared at Aziraphale, a low growl rumbling across the field and vibrating up through khaki covered legs. With a sudden sinking clarity, the former guardian of the eastern gate knew that he was meant to die.

                The wings unfurled from the creature’s back, blotting out the sun and casting deep shadows over the lone occupant in the clearing. Tilting its giant head back a column of fire issued from its mouth, the blazing heat traveling quickly to Aziraphale in searing waves. The sword in his hand still blazed menacingly, but he knew that it would do him no good against a monster like this. A faint whine escaped his throat as he took a few stumbling steps backwards, his heart thudding rapidly against his ribs and his chest heaving with panicked breaths*.

                A low rumble started in the distance, coming closer and closer with every second that passed. It was the sound of a vintage Bentley roaring across the emerald green grass of a meadow at 90mph, clumps of flowers and dirt flying up behind the wheels as large rocks flung up to smash into the doors and leave large dents. Glancing over his shoulder, Aziraphale gave an unnecessary gasp as he took in the vehicle barreling towards him and the dragon. “Crowley,” he breathed.

                The car swung around as it neared the two, coming to a screeching halt next to Aziraphale as the passenger side door sprang open on its own. “Aziraphale, get in!” Crowley roared, his eyes locked on the furious dragon as the tweed clad angel scrambled into the car. The door shut and the Bentley screamed as it shot away, the gas pedal pressed fully down to the floor.

                 A jet of fire shot forth from the dragon, aimed directly at the Bentley and its two occupants. Aziraphale winced and glanced back. “Er . . . Crowley, dear . . .”

                “I know, _I know_ ,” Crowley moaned miserably, shifting gears. The smell of burning metal and leather reached his nose and he resisted the urge to wail. His precious car was on fire. Again. “Just hold on, Angel,” he commanded, veering off to the side as another spout of fire reached for them. “I’m going to get us out of here as quick as possible.”

                “How did you find me?” Aziraphale asked curiously, still turned in his seat to watch the creature that had been sent to “test his loyalty”**.

                Crowley snorted. “You’re not exactly hard to track, Angel,” he said. “You leave a trail of blessed people in your wake.” The angel gave a slightly sheepish smile and shrugged. Queen warbled from the speakers as flames licked further up along the outside of the car. Aziraphale gave the fire a nervous glance, but did nothing; he knew that he could trust Crowley.

                The dragon hadn’t moved from the clearing, becoming smaller and smaller as the two rocketed further away from it. Aziraphale watched as it huffed once more, smoke rings escaping from the cave like nostrils before it blinked out of existence. The blonde swallowed with difficultly and turned back around in his seat, reaching up to loosen the bowtie around his neck as the temperature in the car continued to rise and the blaze continued to encompass the sleek black metal. “It’s not over.”

                “Of course it bloody well isn’t,” Crowley muttered, banking a right and heading towards the highway. “Your side wouldn’t give up that easily.”

                “What am I going to do?” Aziraphale whispered tremulously.

                “We just have to get to my flat,” Crowley answered, yellow eyes flicking over to gaze at his counterpart. “I need to make a phone call.”

 

* * *

 *All completely unnecessary bodily functions an angel, but present none-the-less.

**Aziraphale now knew that this was Heaven speak for “barbeque you and possibly serve you with a side salad”. The knowledge wasn’t exactly comforting.

* * *

 

\--

\--

                Adam grunted in irritation, fumbling on his bedside table for the phone that was annoyingly vibrating across the surface. Pepper gaped up at him, watching in shock as he flipped the device open and held it up to his ear. “This had better be good,” he rumbled into the receiver.

\--

\--

                The Antichrist barged into the pristine flat, Pepper trailing after him with her arms crossed over her chest and a disgruntled look on her face. Crowley glanced at them from where he had been lounging on the sofa, raising an eyebrow as he stared at the two. Adam ignored his smirk and turned to Aziraphale, who had paused in his frantic pacing when the two had entered.

                “I took care of it*,” Adam said simply, shrugging. Crowley’s plants shuddered in their pots as they noticed the presence of someone far more powerful than their owner and perked up even more as they tried to get in this new person’s good graces. “Suck ups,” Crowley muttered, as he noticed.

                “How?” Aziraphale asked breathlessly, taking a few timid steps forward.

                “I told you that you didn’t need to worry,” Adam said, reminding them of the end of the Almost Apocalypse. “So don’t.”

                Aziraphale blinked and nodded. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, his blue eyes glistening. Adam nodded and looked at Crowley, who stayed quiet but nodded his thanks.  

                “Now that that’s done,” Pepper interrupted, striding forward and grabbing the Antichrist’s bicep as she began to drag him out of the flat. “We can go back home. You aren’t going to _believe_ how much trouble you’re in, Adam Young!”

                “But, Pepper -!” Adam protested, the door slamming shut cutting off the rest of his sentence. Crowley and Aziraphale stared at the plain wooden surface in stunned silence for a few minutes before Crowley cleared his throat and lowered his arms from the back of the couch where they had been resting. Aziraphale watched him stand from the cushions, unfurling himself from his sitting position and standing tall in the room.

                “So,” the demon said brightly, looking at his companion. “The Ritz?”

                Aziraphale smiled. “That sounds lovely, my dear.”

 

* * *

 *By ‘it’ Adam not only meant the persecution of Aziraphale, but also the reconstruction of the Bentley to its previous glorious condition.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you found something interesting about this. Comments and kudos are extremely loved.


End file.
